Like I Never Had A Broken Heart
by AnnieBooker
Summary: SLASH When Jesse's involved in an accident, it brings out a new level of commitment for Steve.


The man slumped behind the wheel of the wrecked car groaned as he regained consciousness slowly. He lifted his head back and dabbed dazedly with unsteady fingers at the wetness trickling down the side of his face. He moved, his stomach roiling noisily within him, nausea rising and touching the back of his throat with the acidic burn of bile. Momentarily, he panicked, as he realized he was confined somehow and he fought against the tide of sickness that threatened to choke him as he tried to free himself until seemingly accidentally, his hand found the release for his seat belt. As soon as he knew he was free, he pushed open the car door and fell to his knees on the ground, pain jarring through him at the impact. Unable to control the spasms rippling through him, he retched violently for long minutes. Then, spent, his body shivering with cold and fear, he sagged boneless to the ground.

An eternity, or perhaps only minutes later, he pushed himself shakily to his knees, almost collapsing back to the ground again as his right arm screamed its protest along nerves suddenly afire with agony. He felt the blood drain from his face as he cradled the injured limb across his lap, seeing the deformity of the bone pressing up against the skin. ***Broken*** he thought muzzily. He pushed himself cautiously back till he was leaning against the car and tried to bring some coherence to his muddled thoughts.

Looking around he saw the car had impacted a huge tree on the side of the road. He didn't remember how it had happened. In fact, he realized with mounting fear that he really didn't remember much of anything. He closed his eyes, and looked inward, pushing past the clamoring ache in his head for some clue as to who he was and how he came to be here.

He could feel he was heading for a major panic attack as his breath began panting faster and faster through dry lips, his heart beating a frantic counterpoint. Without being aware of how he did it, he managed to bring himself somewhat under control and began casting about for some clue to his identity.

He patted his pockets with his uninjured hand and almost cried with relief as his search yielded a wallet and a cellphone from his jacket pocket. Flipping open the wallet, he looked blearily at the driver's licence photo and then, squinting, read the name. "Jesse Travis." He said it out loud, wondering if by doing so it would trigger a flash of recognition. Aside from a brief moment of déjà vu, there was nothing concrete, so he put the wallet away and pressed the menu button on the cellphone, rejoicing silently as the face lit up. He had no idea whom to call. Common sense dictated an ambulance but he had no way to tell them where to find him and he wondered if one of the faceless phone numbers in the phone's memory might know where he had been going tonight and therefore be able to give some clue to his whereabouts.

The road he was on looked deserted. There'd been no traffic at all since he'd regained consciousness and he was achingly cold. Pain nagged at him, no matter how little he moved. Rescue didn't look as though it was coming to him; he figured he'd have to go to it.

Bringing up the phone book option he began reading through the names. *Amanda* - girlfriend, wife? Without knowing why, he discarded that idea, sensing a different connection and continued through the list. The next name gave him pause and he held his breath as something teased at the edges of his mind. "Mark," he whispered. This person was important in his life, he was certain. More than that, he felt an instinctive feeling of security within at the mention of the name. With a trembling finger, he depressed the call button, unconsciously holding his breath as he heard the ringing sound.

"Mark Sloan speaking."

Jesse's breath caught in his throat and his eyes burned with tears. He swallowed dryly, trying to gather enough moisture to speak.

"Hello? Who is this?" the voice asked.

"I think my name is Jesse Travis," Jesse replied hesitantly. "Do you know me?"

"Jesse? Oh my God! Where are you? We've been worried sick. Are you hurt?" The voice faded a little as the man on the other end called to someone. "Steve! It's Jesse!"

For some reason unknown to him, Jesse's heart felt as if it skipped a beat at the mention of the name Steve. He brushed away the tears dampening his cheeks and struggled to keep speaking. "I… I've been in some sort of car wreck. I don't know where I am. My arm's broken, I think. I'm… I'm c…cold," he ended, whispering now.

"Jesse, listen to me, son. You just hang on. We'll find you. Just don't disconnect the phone, all right? We can trace the call. You just hang on." The voice was reassuring and Jesse grasped onto the surety in it like a lifeline.

"I can't remember who you are," he muttered brokenly. "I'm s…sorry."

"That doesn't matter," the calm voice said. "We know you and we're coming to get you and bring you home."

There was another voice in the background, its tones deep and insistent. It tugged at a distant memory in Jesse's mind but he was too tired and in too much pain to concentrate on it. It was all he could do to keep his eyes open now that he knew someone was coming for him. He was so cold and tired and the pain was exhausting what little reserves he had left. The last thing he heard before darkness overtook him was the voice exhorting him to stay awake.

~oOo~

Steve Sloan paced the twelve steps that took him across to the Emergency Room waiting area door then turned and made the walk back to his seat. He sat for all of ten seconds before his jittering nerves had him on his feet once more, repeating his trek. This time he stopped in the doorway and looked down the hall to the cubicle where his lover had been taken, hoping somebody would come out and tell him what was going on. Frustrated, he went back to his chair, leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes, his mind returning unwillingly to the scene of Jesse's accident.

The emergency dispatcher had managed to get a rough fix on where Jesse was calling from and Steve and Mark had been in the car, heading for the site immediately. Halfway there, an ambulance had pulled in behind them and trailed them down the lonely stretch of road till Steve spotted the red sportscar off the shoulder, its nose crumpled against the trunk of a large tree.

Steve covered the distance to Jesse's slumped body at a run, his heart in his mouth. Mark followed, the ambulance attendants bringing up the rear, their cases of supplies perched on top of the gurney that they pushed quickly over the rough ground.

Jesse was semi-conscious and disorientated, seemingly unaware of where he was or who his rescuers were. There was a large gash on his forehead, just above his eyebrow and Steve could see a patch of dried blood on the cracked windscreen of the car.

Mark had turned the young man onto his back, log-rolling him gently with the EMT's help then checked him over urgently and carefully. The broken arm had been placed in an inflatable splint. It would need to be surgically reduced, Mark had told his son. Jesse moaned as the splint was put on, his eyes opening briefly in pain. Steve reached down and caressed his lover's cold face softly, shushing him in quiet tones. The EMT's had inserted an IV and covered the injured man with blankets as soon as he was transferred to the gurney. Then he was loaded into the ambulance, with Mark climbing in to sit beside him while Steve ran back to the car and followed closely behind the vehicle as it sped back to town, sirens wailing.

And now, he was waiting. Desperate for news he pushed himself to his feet again, determined this time to shove his way into the ER cubicle where Jesse was if he had to. He reached the door just as his father came down the hallway.

"Dad. Is he okay? What's going on? Does he remember what happened? is he gonna be all right?" The questions fell from Steve's lips in a tumbling rush.

Mark grabbed his son's arm and steered him back over to the chairs, sitting down wearily himself. "Give me a second, son and I'll fill you in. Okay, Jesse's going to be taken up to the OR in a little while so they can put some pins in his arm. It's not a bad break and his arm'll be good as new once the plaster comes off and he can have some physiotherapy. He got some pretty spectacular bruising on his chest from the seatbelt but no fractured ribs, thank goodness. That cut on his head took ten sutures to close and he's a got a severe concussion. He hasn't completely regained consciousness yet but there's no sign of bleeding in his brain or any skull fractures. He's been warmed up with IV fluids and warm blankets." Mark smiled tiredly as Steve huffed out a sigh of relief then went on. "When he's been awake he still seems to be still suffering some memory loss -" Mark put up a hand as Steve straightened in his chair. "Settle down, Steve. It's quite likely that once he's recovered from the concussion, the amnesia will disappear. I have to admit I'm a little worried that he seems to be exhibiting signs of global amnesia rather than just a loss of memory regarding the accident itself. However, we can't really tell for sure till he wakes up properly. If he still has no memory of who he is then I'll call in a psychiatrist to check him out-"

"A psychiatrist!" Steve looked stunned.

"A psychiatrist is the best person to deal with something like that, son. The major cause of global amnesia is trauma, emotional or physical. Something so bad has happened to the patient that their mind decides the best way to deal with it is to forget. It's a protective mechanism. The only thing is," Mark gave his son a shrewd look, "I can't think of anything that traumatic that's happened to Jesse in the past few days. Can you?"

Steve stood and walked over to the coffee machine, getting a cup of the dark brew for himself and his father. Coming back, he handed a cup to Mark then sat down next to him again. "I suppose I'm not going to be able to see him yet, am I?" he asked hopefully.

Mark shook his head. "When he gets back from the OR, Steve. I'll let you know as soon as he's settled in a room. Now, talk to me. You said you were at Jess's apartment before he left to go wherever he was going. You going to tell me the whole story or do I need to get Tanis down here to question you under some bright lights?"

Steve blew out a gust of air and shook his head slowly. "If it'll help you help Jesse, Dad, I'll tell you everything. Just… just don't get upset, all right? I was going to tell you some of this anyway. I… we were just waiting for the right time."

"Ah," Mark said, a fatherly smile quirking his lips. He reached out and patted Steve's hand. "You and Jesse, huh?" At Steve's startled nod, he gave a quick laugh. "I might be old, Steve, but I'm not that old. I can still recognize love when I see it. I just wondered when you two were going to work it out for yourselves. I was starting to think I was going to have to play matchmaker."

"You don't mind?" Steve asked. "Jess said you wouldn't but I wanted to be sure it was gonna work out between us before we came out of the closet, so to speak," he said ruefully.

"Tell me what happened tonight before Jesse left, son. It might hold the key to what's going on in that stubborn head of his."

"It was our anniversary," Steve grinned shyly at his dad. "We'd been together a month and I wanted to do something special so I told Jess we were going out for dinner at Romano's…"

Mark's eyebrows flew upward. Romano's wasn't cheap. He smiled inwardly as he thought about his big tough cop son taking his lover to the best and most romantic restaurant in town to celebrate their first month as a couple. "Wish I'd have known," he said lightly. "I'd have bought you a toaster or something."

Steve smiled back. "Yeah, I should've listened to Jess. Sometimes I think he knows you better than I do."

Mark shook his head. "I doubt that, Steve. I think Jesse's just the sort of person who doesn't believe in hiding something this important away, no matter what anyone else might think. Go on."

Steve's eyes darkened with emotion as he thought back to what had happened before Jesse had been injured. "We had dinner. It was nice. There was a band playing and Jess said seeing it was our anniversary, we should dance. He said it as if he was joking but I sorta snapped at him and said no. It was crowded and I didn't feel comfortable…" His voice trailed off.

"It's okay, Steve. I'm sure Jesse understood," Mark said consolingly.

"Yeah, he said he did. That's why I feel so bad about it all. We were about to leave when this woman called out to me from across the room. It was Jenny Peterson. Remember her?"

Mark nodded. Jenny Peterson had been one of Steve's girlfriends in college. They'd only dated for a few months then they'd gone their separate ways. Mark recalled meeting Jenny's mother in town one day and being told Jenny had married a lawyer and moved to Texas.

"She came over and said hello. I asked her if she wanted to have a drink with us and she said yes. I introduced Jesse to her as my business partner, told her about BBQ Bob's. Jesse looked like I'd slapped him when I did that," Steve said, his face flushing with remembered guilt. "Anyway, she told me she'd just gotten divorced and was back in town visiting her family and then she asked if I wanted to dance…"

"And you said yes," Mark prompted as Steve went silent.

Steve nodded voicelessly. "That's not the worst of it. On the dancefloor, Jen was really coming onto me, kissing me and moving in real close. Anyway, long story short, I kinda held her away from me and she… she asked me if I'd turned gay or something…" Steve bent forward, leaning his arms on his knees and buried his face in his hands.

"And you said, no," Mark prompted again, determined to get to the bottom of what had caused Jesse to flee into the night, away from Steve.

"Yeah. I said, of course I wasn't into guys. Made some bullshit excuse about her only being newly divorced and walked her off the dancefloor, said goodbye to her, grabbed Jesse and left," Steve finished.

"But Jesse heard you."

"Yeah. Jesse heard me saying I wasn't into guys, wasn't into him. Oh, he knew why I'd said it and he didn't say anything when we got back to his place at first. But I knew he was hurt and then good ole sensitive Steve just had to rub salt into his wounds. I knew he was upset so when we got home, I tried to explain. Jess said he understood but he wanted to know how long we were going to hide our relationship. He asked me how long was he going to be my dirty little secret?"

"What did you tell him?" Mark asked softly.

Steve looked ashamed, his head still buried in his hands, his cheeks red. "I told him probably forever. That I was a cop and I had a reputation to maintain and that bisexual cops didn't have it easy. That if he didn't like it then he didn't have to hang around." Steve sat up and looked at Mark, his eyes damp with tears. "So he left. Said he needed to drive around and think. And I let him go. Jesus, Dad. I let him go." Steve's voice broke on a sob and Mark pulled him forward into a warm embrace.

"Oh Steve," Mark said sadly. "This can be fixed between you and Jess if you want it badly enough. But he's going to need time and a lot of support and a lot more honesty from you."

"I love him, Dad. There's nothing I won't do if I'm allowed to make it up to him." Steve pulled himself free of Mark's arms and wiped at his eyes. "I'm gonna fix this. When Jesse comes round, I'm going to make sure he knows that he's the most important person in the world to me."

Mark smiled at his son. "You know," he said, "Your mother used to tell me that no matter its packaging, love is love. I want you to go down to my office and get some rest on the couch then the minute Jess is in his room and awake enough to see you, I'll call you, okay? Aah!" he wagged a stern finger in Steve's face. "Do I have to ground you for not listening to me? Go on! Shoo!"

Steve stood up and smiled wearily down at his father. "No. No grounding necessary, Dad. Thanks. Just look after my… my partner for me, okay?"

"Goes without saying, son," Mark replied fondly.

~oOo~

Jesse could hear vague murmuring coming from somewhere near his left ear. He tried to concentrate on that voice, on the sense of safety its deep timbre brought him. He finally managed to push open his heavy eyelids a crack then almost instantly slammed them shut again as bright white light bit into his corneas, bringing with it a ferocious ache at his temples. He heard himself groan aloud, surprised at the pain in the sound and heard a muttered whisper of, "Sorry" from the man at his side and the click of a light being turned off. He allowed his eyes to open again, sighing with relief at the dimness that now met him. Turning his head cautiously to his left, he saw a man in a white lab coat over blue scrubs, sitting at his side.

"It's okay, Jesse. I know you're probably feeling pretty confused and scared right now but you're safe. You're in Community General," the man said, leaning forward to place a calming hand on his shoulder.

"M…Mark?" Jesse whispered back, sure that if he spoke aloud his head would split in two.

Mark Sloan smiled widely. "Jess, do you remember me from when you called me just after the accident or from before?" He sat waiting patiently for Jesse's reply, keeping his warm hand on the young man's shoulder, gripping it with gentle familiarity.

"Before, I think," Jesse said, his voice still quiet and hesitant. "What happened, Mark? What accident? I don't remember getting here."

"You were in a car wreck, Jess. You've got a broken arm and a nasty concussion but you're gonna be just fine, son."

Jesse lifted the heavy weight that was his right arm, grimacing a little as he did so and gazed blearily at the pristine white cast. "Did you have to operate?" he asked.

"You've got a few new bits of hardware in there that you didn't have before," Mark replied quickly, "but your arm will be just fine in about 8 weeks or so. We were pretty concerned about your loss of memory but that seems to be coming back. Do you feel up to telling me what you do remember?"

Jesse nodded then winced at the stab of pain the movement brought.

Mark immediately stood and moved to the IV stand. He increased the morphine infusion slightly then sat back down at Jesse's side. "When you feel up to it, there's someone who's pretty anxious to see you," he said, smiling at his young protégé.

"Who?" Jesse asked.

"Steve, of course," Mark responded, a slight frown creasing his forehead as he watched Jesse's reaction to his words.

"Steve? Oh man, I wasn't driving Steve's car when I crashed, was I?" the young man said in some alarm, lifting up slightly from his pillows.

"I'm afraid the only car you wrecked tonight was yours," Mark reassured him as he pushed Jesse down to rest against the pillows once more. He felt a growing unease as he became aware of the fact that although Jesse seemed to have regained some of his memory, there appeared to be a large and very significant chunk missing still. "Just relax, son and tell me what's the last thing you remember."

Jesse closed his eyes in concentration. "Um, I'd just finished operating on the Donaldson boy and you told me to go home and get some rest. But I couldn't. I was so wound up over the fact that the kid hadn't made it. I drove around for a while and then I went to BBQ Bob's to have a drink. Oh jeez, Mark, I wasn't drunk, was I? Oh God, did I hurt anyone?" Jesse's breath was coming in frantic huffing breaths, his eyes wide, the pupils dilated in fear. He raised himself up to lean on his elbows, biting down hard on his lower lip as pain flared through his chest.

"Jesse, take it easy." Mark stood and grasped the younger man's shoulders firmly then levered him back to the pillows once more. "You didn't hurt anyone except yourself. You weren't under the influence. Okay?" He gave the thin shoulders a small shake then smiled gently as Jesse nodded and seemed to relax, his eyes beginning to look glazed as the extra morphine kicked in. "Can you tell me anything else you remember? Mark asked quietly, his mind racing, as he pondered what Jesse had said and waited for him to gather his thoughts enough to reply.

"Nothing," Jesse muttered, barely able to keep his eyes open now.

Mark tried to put the clues together.

The Donaldson child had died on the operating table approximately a month ago. Jesse had been distraught over losing the three-year-old, despite the fact that the child's injuries, caused from falling from his parents' fifth floor apartment balcony, had been almost certainly incompatible with life. Mark had come across Jesse in the locker room after the surgery was over and had ordered him home to rest. His protégé had been almost in tears as he told Mark that the boy had died. He'd insisted on speaking to the child's parents and then he'd left the hospital, apparently to go home. Instead he'd obviously gone to the restaurant and probably run into Steve there.

Mark was almost certain he knew what was going on inside Jesse's head now.

That had to be the night Jesse and Steve had become lovers. Steve said they'd been together a month which made the timing right. What had probably begun as simple comfort between the two men had grown gradually over the past few weeks to something far more important to both of them. Then Steve had dropped the ball, so to speak, Mark mused ruefully to himself, and poor Jesse was paying the price. In the shock of hearing Steve deny his feelings for him and then the trauma of the accident, Jesse's subconscious had blocked out the memories of his and Steve's relationship. Mark swallowed hard as he watched Jesse fall into a healing, peaceful sleep. He really wasn't looking forward to breaking the news about this to his son.

~oOo~

"Hey."

Steve jerked awake at the gentle shaking of his shoulder and almost toppled from the couch as he tried to sit up. Mark shifted his grip to his son's elbow and waited till he'd regained his balance then he moved over and perched on the edge of the desk, looking Steve over with the appraising gaze of an experienced doctor.

Steve looked like hell, Mark decided. His hair was mussed and there were dark circles under his eyes despite his short nap, the pallor of his face only serving to accentuate them.

"How's Jess?" Steve asked immediately, his voice still rusty with sleep.

Mark turned to one side and poured a glass of water from the jug he kept on his desk. Handing it to Steve, he waited till the cup had been handed back empty before he began.

"He's sleeping. That's a good thing," he said quickly as he saw a shadow of disappointment cross his son's face. "I know you want to see him but he needs rest too, Steve."

"I know," Steve admitted, somewhat grudgingly, Mark thought. "What about his memory? Does he remember anything?" ***Does he remember me? *** Mark translated wordlessly, reading between the lines.

"He was still a little confused when he woke up. He does remember who he is and who we are but - and it's a big one, son, I'm sorry. - he doesn't remember anything that happened over the past few weeks. His last memory is of leaving the hospital the night the Donaldson child died and driving over to BBQ Bob's for a drink. In fact, at first he thought he'd gotten drunk and crashed the car because of it -"

"That was the night we… " Steve's voice trailed off, his face flushing.

"I sorta figured that," Mark said gently.

"What about what happened before the accident then? Does he remember us arguing?" Steve asked anxiously.

"When I told Jesse that you were very keen to see him, he thought he'd crashed your car. I guess he thought you wanted to rip strips off him for wrecking your car," Mark explained. Steve looked into his father's eyes and Mark's breathing hitched at the pain he saw in his son's face. "I'm so sorry, son. I don't think he remembers that you and he were together."

"Jesus! What the hell did I do?" Steve muttered. He looked up again. "How do I fix this, Dad? Please tell me there's a way…"

"You sure that's what you want, Steve?" Mark asked quietly.

"More than I've ever wanted anything in my life before," Steve whispered. "More than I can ever imagine wanting anything again."

"Even if it means coming out to your family and friends?" Mark asked. "Even if it means not hiding your relationship with Jesse away in dark corners?"

"More than I've ever wanted anything in my life," Steve repeated, more strongly this time. "Jesse's been my best friend almost since we met, Dad. Over the past few weeks he became so much more than that to me. He's like this missing part of me, the part I didn't even realize was missing till I found him." He blushed. "I sound like one of those romance books Amanda reads," he said, grinning a little.

Mark shook his head then leaned over and grasped Steve's hand in his. "No," he said, smiling. "You don't sound like that at all. You sound like a man in love."

Steve nodded, his eyes damp with emotion. "So, what do I do? I can't just barge in there and tell him. Can I?" he asked hopefully.

"No, you can't do that. I'll organize some therapy for him and when he goes home we'll wait and see where that takes him. He may remember spontaneously on his own or… he may never remember." Mark gripped Steve's hand more firmly at the stricken look he saw in Steve's eyes. "If he doesn't remember, Steve, that doesn't mean you both can't start over. Jesse loves you, son, as much as you love him. He might have lost some memories but I doubt he's lost that."

"Can I see him?' Steve asked. "I… I won't say anything to him about it. I just really need to see him. See for myself he's still here, you know?"

"I know. Come on, I'll take you to his room."

~oOo~

Jesse twisted uncomfortably on the couch as he craned his neck to look at Steve.

Immediately the big cop was on his feet. "You okay, Jess? Are you in pain? Do you want me to call Dad?"

Jesse grinned. "I'm fine, Steve. Just getting a crick out of my neck, that's all," he lied glibly.

"Oh, okay then." Steve settled back down in his chair and continued to watch the television, his eyes flicking back toward Jesse every few minutes or so.

Jesse finally turned so he could do some Steve-watching of his own. His best friend had seemed unaccountably nervous around him ever since Jesse had been released from the hospital. Mark had insisted on Jesse staying at the beach house and truth be told the young doctor hadn't really minded, though he'd put up a token protest, of course. He had a reputation for being a difficult patient to uphold, after all. But, in reality, he was more than happy to be here, with Mark and Steve. Mark's cooking was great, for one thing and then there was the fact that Steve lived here too, which meant Jesse could be close to him as often as possible.

Jesse sighed quietly. He wasn't sure when his feelings for Steve had changed from friendship to love or if he'd been in love with Steve from the day they first met. He quirked a grin at that then winced as it pulled at the sutures in his head. Jesse Travis, true romantic, believer in love at first sight. Yeah, that was him, all right.

He looked over at Steve again just as the detective looked at him and frowned as Steve met his eyes briefly then turned back to the TV again. For a while, he'd actually believed Steve was returning his feelings. The friendly pats on the back that accompanied Steve's teasing had become more lingering, more like caresses. Then the accident had happened and now Steve seemed uncomfortable around him.

He sighed again, loudly this time, and Steve looked around. "What's wrong, Jess?" he asked.

"Nothing… Well, I've got my first therapy session with David Nathan tomorrow and I'm a bit nervous, that's all."

Steve straightened in his seat and turned so he was looking at Jesse full on. "Why are you nervous, Jess? Don't you want to remember?"

"Sure I do," Jesse said surely. "I mean, I guess I do. I just can't work out why I can't. I mean, why would I forget four whole weeks of my life? What happened that would cause that? It's nothing physical. That's been ruled out by the tests. So that means something happened that I wanted to block out." His eyes narrowed suddenly. "You'd tell me if you knew something, wouldn't you? I mean you're my friend… my… my best friend… You'd tell me, right, Steve?"

He saw Steve almost leap from his chair in the same moment he mortifyingly felt his eyes begin to well with tears. Then Steve was sitting next to him on the couch, pulling him into a comforting hug, his big hand stroking soothingly over Jesse's back. "It'll be all right, Jess. I'll be here for you, I promise. No matter what happens, I'll always be here for you," Steve whispered.

Jesse lifted his face from where he'd buried it against Steve's chest. Steve's mouth was an inch from his own and Jesse covered the distance before he'd even realized what he intended to do.

He felt Steve's lips open briefly beneath his, heard him groan aloud then he was being pushed away and Steve was standing up and staring down at him, his face white with shock.

"Oh God, Steve, I'm sorry," Jesse murmured. "I just… I… I'm sorry." He made it to his feet, shrugging off Steve's helping hand as he stumbled then he ran shakily down the hallway to the guest bedroom, hearing Steve's pleas for him to wait echoing behind him.

He slammed the bedroom door shut, then locked it. Then he slid down the door, propping his back against it. He bent his head to his knees, burrowing his hot face into his uninjured arm and let the tears come, wanting nothing more than to feel the awful aching pain in his chest go away. It felt, he thought despairingly, the way it would if your heart had broken in two.

~oOo~

Steve pushed away from where he'd been leaning with his forehead against the door to the guest room as his father entered the house. He kept one hand against the wood separating him from his lover and watched as Mark walked quickly toward him.

"Steve?" Mark asked, worrying tingeing his voice. "What's going on? Is Jesse okay?"

"Oh, Dad," Steve said. "I don't know what the hell happened." He lifted a hand and scrubbed them across his burning eyes. "He was upset, scared about the psychiatrist and…" His voice trailed away.

Mark turned to the door and knocked on it. "Jess? It's Mark. Are you all right, son?"

There was a sobbing intake of breath from within then Jesse called out, his voice shaky and filled with sadness. "I'm fine, Mark. I just want to be on my own for a while, okay?"

"Okay," Mark agreed. "I'll come back and check on you in a while."

"Whatever," Jesse replied.

Steve felt his arm grabbed and he was towed along behind his father to the kitchen.

Once there, Mark turned to face him, his sapphire eyes blazing with unaccustomed anger. "Tell me you didn't say anything to him," he demanded.

Steve raised his hands defensively. "Dad, how could you even think that? I know how important it is not to push this with Jess. How could you even think I'd do anything to hurt him like that?" Suddenly, his shoulders slumped. "Because I've hurt him before, haven't I?" he murmured, sinking down into a chair. He looked pleadingly up at his father. "Not this time, Dad. I swear I didn't tell him anything."

Mark smiled gently at his son. "I'm sorry, Steve. I believe you. Tell me what happened."

"He seemed nervous, uptight. I asked him if he was okay and at first he said he was. Then I asked him again and he said he was worried about seeing the psychiatrist tomorrow. He figured something pretty bad must have happened to cause him to lose four weeks of his life. He asked me if I knew what it was. I didn't say anything, Dad…" Steve felt on the verge of tears himself now.

"It's okay, I believe you," Mark said reassuringly. "Then what happened?"

"He started crying and… God, Dad, I couldn't bear seeing him on his own like that, so heartbroken and scared. I went over and sat next to him and I hugged him, told him I'd be there for him, no matter what and he… he kissed me. I couldn't help it. I responded at first but then I remembered what you'd said about him having to recall everything on his own and I didn't want it to seem like I was taking advantage of him so I pushed him away…"

"Oh, Steve, I'm sorry," Mark said softly, brushing a soothing hand across his son's hair.

"I thought at first he'd remembered about us. But I don't think he had. I think it was like it was the first night we…"

"The first night you were together?" Mark asked, smiling a little. "It's okay, Steve. You can say it, you know. I'm a fairly sophisticated old guy."

Steve managed a smile at that. "Dad, I swear I didn't try to push him but I have to admit when he kissed me I was glad. I didn't really care right then whether he'd remembered we'd been lovers for four weeks or not. It just felt so good to be able to hold him again. Jesse is -"

"Here," Mark interrupted, staring over Steve's shoulder.

"What?" Steve asked uncomprehendingly.

"Jesse's here," Mark said flatly.

Steve spun and saw his lover standing in the kitchen doorway, his face white and his eyes huge with shock. Then Jesse turned and headed for the front door at a shambling run, leaving Steve and Mark too flat-footed with surprise and dismay to follow.

"Oh Christ!" Steve muttered feelingly as he finally shook off his numbness enough to follow Jesse. He ran through the open front door and stopped, looking up and down the beach. The wind felt freezing against his face and he had to squint to see through the misty rain that had just begun to fall. Steve slammed his hand into the door in frustration.

There was no sign of Jesse.

Steve turned back to the closet where they kept their wet weather gear and pulled out two slickers. He looked over at Mark. "I'll find him, Dad. He can't have gone too far."

His father nodded. "There's a path that runs down to the rocks a few hundred yards to the east. I found him down there one night when we brought him home after he'd been abducted."

Steve nodded grimly. He remembered that night too, remembered seeing Mark half-carrying a strangely subdued Jesse back into the house. "I'll find him," he said again, "and I'll bring him home."

~oOo~

Jesse slithered down the slippery pebbled path that led to the shelter of the rocks. He remembered coming here before on a night when he'd felt as if he was going insane, when he couldn't be sure which memories of the time of his abduction were real and which had really happened. Finally making it to the ground in an uncoordinated stumble that landed him painfully on his knees, he crawled forward till he was partially protected from the elements by an outcropping then slumped down and leaned forward, his arms on bent knees, staring unseeingly out at the turbulent sea. He vaguely realized his plaster was getting wet but it seemed too minor a thing to worry about right now.

He only barely registered the scattering of pebbles hitting his legs before he felt a warm wet body sitting down close beside him. He didn't look around. He knew it was Steve, had known he'd come and find him, just like he'd probably always known what it was that had been buried below the surface of his consciousness ever since the accident.

"When were you going to tell me?" he asked, trying for indifferent but knowing it came out as angry.

"I wasn't going to," Steve said, sounding more unsure than Jesse could ever recall hearing him. "Dad and the psychiatrist said you needed to remember on your own."

Jesse turned to look at him then. Steve looked as miserable and wet as Jesse felt. "I don't remember everything," he said matter of factly. "Nothing about that night anyway. But I remember being at the restaurant after Jamie Donaldson died and I remember you taking me home and… I remember knowing I loved you and being sure you loved me too."

Steve looked at him. "I did. I do. That hasn't changed, Jess. But I hurt you that night, badly enough that you wanted to get as far away from me as you could and I'm scared that when you remember…"

"I can't promise that I won't be angry at you if… when I remember what happened that night, Steve. Do you think that If I hadn't left that night, we could have worked it out?" Jesse asked.

Steve leaned across and covered the small distance between them, pulling Jesse close against his side as he did. He kissed Jesse's mouth gently then pulled back. "I hope we could have. It would have meant a lot of changes on my part but I swear, sweetheart, I'm willing to make them."

"I know I remember the most important thing, Steve. That we love each other. We could start over, couldn't we?" Jesse asked and this time his voice was filled with hope.

"Yeah, we can do that." He reached over and pulled the slicker over Jesse's head and shoulders, laughing as he did so. "Not that this is much help now. You're already soaked." He lifted Jesse's broken arm gently, shaking his head as he felt the sodden plaster beneath his fingers. "Dad is gonna rip you a new one for getting this wet, Jess," he chuckled.

"Yeah, I know," Jesse said, shaking his mournfully at the prospect. "I forgot the plastic wrap."

"Well, I think if I get you home in the next few minutes, he'll probably let it go just this once," Steve said, pulling his lover up with him.

Jesse felt himself pulled within Steve's embrace and rested his head against the broad chest. "Guess we'd better go home then, huh, big guy?"

"You got it, babe. Let's go."

~oOo~

Mark Sloan looked around the table. He felt a heartening warmth spread within him at seeing his family together again. The last couple of months had been tough on all of them, roughest most of all on Jesse and on Steve.

Jesse had ended his therapy sessions the day before with no real resolution except the psychiatrist's opinion that the young man might never reclaim all the memories of what had happened the night of the wreck.

Jesse had come to the beach house to talk to Steve immediately after the final appointment. At first he'd been despondent and then he'd demanded that Steve tell him exactly what they'd argued about.

They'd gone down to Steve's apartment and when they'd come upstairs later there's been a look of pained acceptance in Jesse's eyes. Mark had watched as his son and his surrogate son had tiptoed around each other for the rest of the night, as if walking on broken glass. He'd heard a noise during the night and getting up, had found Jesse curled up asleep on the couch. He'd wondered then if it was over, whether perhaps the memories Jesse couldn't bear to remember had torn them apart after all.

So he'd done what he always did in times of trouble. He'd suggested they go out for dinner, gathering his wounded family around him like some sort of overprotective mama bear, hoping that the ties of family would be enough to knit them all together again.

Looking at them all now, he felt like he'd failed. Amanda looked uncomfortable and as if she' rather be anywhere but here; Steve seemed defensive and withdrawn, barely speaking to anyone and Jesse… Mark looked over at the young man he loved as much as he did Steve and sighed. Jesse looked as if his very soul ached and Mark's heart ached for him.

"Yoh, Sloan!" Mark turned his head at the bellow and saw a huge man heading toward their table.

Steve turned his head as well, blinked in surprise then stood up, reaching a hand out towards the behemoth heading towards them. "Tank?" he asked, sounding stunned. "I thought you were dead." He turned back to his father. "Dad, you remember me telling you about Tank... Sergeant Tucker? We served together."

"Sure I do." Mark rose to his feet and stretched a hand out in greeting, getting a strong shake in response. He grimaced a little as he took his hand back, unable to prevent checking to see if all his fingers were still intact.

Tank was eyeing Amanda with an appreciative glance, Mark noticed, while Jesse seemed to have barely acknowledged the arrival of Steve's friend, his eyes still firmly glued to the table top.

"You sly dog, you," Tank said, nudging Steve in the ribs. "Is this the little woman?"

Jesse's head snapped up at that while Amanda's eyes went wide.

Steve chuckled and shook his head. "This is my friend, Amanda, Tank," he said. "And this," he added, grasping Jesse's hand and pulling him up to stand alongside him, "is my partner, Dr. Jesse Travis."

Tank frowned. "I heard you'd become a cop, Sloan. How'd you end up with a doctor as a partner?"

Mark heard Jesse's indrawn gasp of breath.

"Jesse's my life partner," Steve said, keeping a firm hold of Jesse's hand.

"Yeah?" Tank said. "Well, it's about time someone tied you down, Sloan. Hey, let me buy a round of drinks." He patted Steve heartily on the back then did the same to Jesse, almost pushing the young doctor to his knees. "I'm glad to meet you, doc."

Jesse smiled across at Mark then up at his lover. "You too, Tank. I'm glad to meet you too."

Jesse sat down again and Mark gave him a subtle thumbs up across the table.

Jesse nodded back shyly and finally there it was. A full face trademark Jesse Travis grin. The smile they'd all missed so much in the past couple of months. He looked like a man who'd never had a broken heart. He pulled Steve down to sit next to him and within minutes was pumping Tank for details of Steve's misadventures in the army.

Mark simply sat back and watched, his heart too full for words. Maybe they'd make it after all.

The End


End file.
